The Air He Breathes (Elements, #1)(49)

“I’m so sorry,” he said.

I nodded, because I was too.

I closed the tin box and moved closer to him on the couch.

“How did your mom handle losing him?” he asked.

“She didn’t. She used men to forget. She lost herself the day she lost my father. It’s just sad because, well, I miss her.”

“I miss my parents. After Jamie and Charlie passed away, I ran away from them because they were comforting, and I didn’t think I deserved their comfort.”

“Maybe you could give them a call.”

“I don’t know…” he whispered. “I’m still not sure I deserve their comfort yet.”

“Soon, though.”

“Yeah. Maybe soon. So…” he said, changing the subject. “What was the hardest part for you that week? What was your lowest?”

“Um, telling Emma. I didn’t even do it right away either. The first night I lay in her bed holding her, and she asked when daddy was coming home. I broke down crying, and that was when it became real for me. That’s when I knew my life would never be the same again.” Tristan reached out and ran his thumbs under my eyes, wiping away the tears I hadn’t known had fallen. “It’s okay,” I promised. “I’m good.”

He shook his head. “You’re not.”

“I am. I’m good. I’m good.”

His eyes narrowed. “You don’t have to be good all the times. It’s okay to be hurt sometimes. It’s okay to feel lost like you’re wandering around in the dark. It’s the bad days that make the good ones so much better.”

My hands ran through his hair, and I set my lips against his. “Kiss me,” I whispered, placing my fingers against his chest, taking in the feeling of his heart resting in my hands.

He hesitated. “If I kiss you, we can’t go back. If I kiss you…I’ll never want to stop.”

My tongue slowly danced across his bottom lip and then I used it to part his mouth as I spoke in a whisper, “Kiss me.” His hands moved to my lower back, and he pulled me closer to him. He started to rub my back in a circular motion. We were so close together that it was hard to tell if we were two separate people or one soul discovering its inner flame for the first time.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Kiss me.”

“Lizzie…”

A small smile spread across my mouth as I laid a finger against his lips. “I’m only going to tell you this one last time, Tristan. Kiss—”

I didn’t have to finish my words, and I hardly remembered him carrying me to my bedroom.





My back lay against my dresser as he boxed me in. He tightened his grip around my waist and our lips met within a moment’s time. His mouth tasted every inch of mine as he deepened our connection. His fingers traveled up my spine, sending chills throughout me. He leaned in closer, and his tongue parted my lips, finding my tongue ready to dance with his. His arms wrapped tighter around me, and I dug my fingers into his back, holding on to him as if he was my favorite thing in the world. He is. My head tilted to the side as my hands became tangled in his hair, forcing him to kiss me deeper, harder, faster…

“Tristan,” I moaned against him, and he growled into me. My hand fell to the bottom of his shirt, and I slid it up, feeling the tight body he hid underneath. I loved how he felt. I loved how he tasted. I love how I am falling in love with him.

I didn’t know it was possible. I didn’t know the broken pieces of a heart could still beat for love.

He lifted me up, his hands clasping around my behind, and he sat me on the edge of my mattress. His breaths were rushed, his hunger clear. “I want you so much, Lizzie.” He sighed as his mouth sucked on my ear before he rolled his tongue across my chin and landed his lips against mine. The way he tongued my mouth as if he was trying to find every inch of me, every taste made me moan into him as he began to slide his hands under my dress. I watched as he slid my panties down my hips and tossed them to the side of the room. He edged me closer to his body and spread my legs, allowing me to feel his hardness. The longing look in his eyes made me smile. I knew right then that he would always make me smile.

His fingers gripped the edge of my dress, and he slowly moved it up, studying every inch of me, every curve. “Arms,” he ordered in a deep snarl, and I lifted my hands up as he took the dress off and tossed it next to my panties. “Beautiful,” he muttered before bending down and kissing my neck. Each time his lips connected to my skin, I felt my heartbeats racing. His tongue followed the curve of my bra as he reached behind me, unhooking it and throwing it to the pile. He sent shivers through my body as his thumbs circled my hardening nipples.

I started raising his shirt, revealing his toned abs. “Arms,” I ordered. He held them up, and I let it drop on top of the growing pile joining the growing pile. He didn’t waste any time lowering his mouth to my chest again, sliding his tongue across my breasts. His lips kissed me hard, and sucked me harder. My breaths grew heavier and heavier, hungrier and hungrier for him to touch me, taste me. “Tristan, just…oh my God,” I muttered, my head falling back from the way his tongue knew how to control my body.

“Lie down,” he ordered. I did as he said and closed my eyes, running my fingers across my chest. The anticipation of his next touch made me nervous, yet thrilled. When would he touch me, and where?